


The Other Other Side

by Autumnassassin



Series: 25 Wellington Street [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brief Description of Torture, Enemies to Friends, Magic, Magic being surprisingly sentient, Minor Character Deaths, Mrs. Zabini's A+ parenting, and maybe lovers one day, apathy in bad times, headcanons about magic, learning how to act in hard situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumnassassin/pseuds/Autumnassassin
Summary: Blaise Zabini is born into a life of luxury.This does not mean he is born into a life of love.Wherein Blaise grows from apathy to caring. From a life of avoiding to a life of action. From not bothering to give muggles a second thought to defying the Dark Lord for one. Where he grows and becomes more.
Series: 25 Wellington Street [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597606
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! Your comments were lovely, and then this little idea took root, and here we are. The chapter was just getting a bit too long, and while I don't mind scrolling for hours, I am aware that sometimes it gets really easy to get lost. The second chapter should be up soon--hope you have fun!
> 
> This can be read as a standalone or you can go in order, it's up to you! There are things that need to be fixed in the other chapters, so if things don't quite match up, it's probably that (yay for re-reading things and realizing that you misspelled things. Oops).

Blaise Zabini is born into a life of luxury.

That does not mean he is born into a life of love.

Blaise has never really heard the full story of how he was conceived, just that his mother was not allowed to “get rid of him”. His father was his mother’s second official husband. He’s never dared to ask more than that though.

For that reason he spends most of his childhood at the households of other Pureblood children, working under tutors, and generally trying to avoid his mother’s eyesight. She’s never around to see his accomplishments, only turning up for the occasional stiff and silent dinner, cutlery delicately clinking in the oppressive silence.

Otherwise he spends his time with the other Pureblood children, learning lessons along with them, and learning that if he is too loud, he is liable to get cursed and locked in his room for an unforeseen amount of time.

His first ten years pass by in such a way. He spends time with them, but never really becomes friends with them. Malfoy rules with an iron fist (or so he thinks), ordering them around, chasing peacocks, childish things like that. 

But at the end of the day, Malfoy’s parents are always there with a small smile, a soft touch on his head, even as they continue to act as they should. When the other children are all sent home, they are greeted with that same small smile, the soft touch. Only Nott and himself steel themselves to return home.

There is a part of Blaise that hopes that Hogwarts will be different, that since he will be free of his mother’s constant presence, then he can allow himself small luxuries.

It is not to be though.

The day he leaves for Hogwarts, his mother stops him with her nails digging into his shoulder. Blaise doesn’t allow himself to flinch, although he feels himself going absolutely still as his mother lowers  
her face to hiss in his ear.

He’s not sure if there is any blood in his face when he enters the train and his hands are tremble minutely.

_you embarrass me, i’ll kill you. sinistra will keep me abreast of what you do._

He will never be free of her.

/\/\/\/\/\

Sometimes, it feels like he’s floating through Hogwarts. Malfoy rules, Potter causes trouble, and Blaise finds himself on the outside looking in more often than not.

He’s only peripherally aware of what Potter and his gang get up to, he just knows that it’s something to do with the end of the year and the Dark Lord.

Usually. He hears the rumours about Lupin of course, what with Malfoy running around like a headless chicken. But it never actually affects him. His mother warning hangs over his head as though she has actually cursed him. 

So Blaise does nothing.

/\/\/\/\/\ 

He goes home during summer breaks and avoids his mother.

After his first year at Hogwarts, he doesn’t dare go back to Wilkes Manor, instead fleeing to one of the summer homes. The summer home he chooses, in Varese, becomes his safe haven. His mother never comes here, believing it to be for a lower-class person. Blaise doesn’t even notice the low quality, too busy sinking into the welcoming embrace and smell of apples that the summer house greets him with.

It’s the only time he feels safe during his school years. He spends time, so much time, carefully crafting and caring for the wards, for the house, for the grounds. He even starts to craft his mind after the grounds, using the plants as memories, as doors and passageways.

The library is dusty, but Blaise diligently works to restore each book, learning how to with charms that the summer home helpfully provides. He finds it easy, calming to work with them. At least books won’t hate him.

When summer is over, he goes back to Hogwarts, back to the politics and delicate stepping that is required, back to constantly watching his back from other Slytherins, from other students, from Sinistra.

And every time he returns to Varese, he’s greeted with the smell of apples.

/\/\/\/\/\

It all comes to a head seventh year. Or perhaps more accurately, the beginning of the end was back in fourth year. But Blaise was able to ignore it until the Dark Lord comes right out to take over the Ministry and Hogwarts.

But even then, with everything going insane, with all the students on one side or the other, with the teachers silently rebelling as best as they can, Blaise does nothing.

When the Battle of Hogwarts is fought, Blaise stays inside the library, diligently protecting the books from any spell fire. Madam Pince doesn’t bother to kick him out, too busy working on other portions of the library and keeping them safe from any stray spells.

When the battle is over, and the Death Eaters are kicked out, Madam Pince gives him a tired, but grateful smile, one that Blaise returns. 

He wants to stay in this moment forever.

/\/\/\/\/\

But then his mother steps in. And Blaise finds it all crashing down.

He presents himself to the Dark Lord, still drenched in the blood of some nasty smelling muggle. The Dark Lord greets him with what he probably thinks is a smile, but Blaise can only think of a snake. 

And willingly, Blaise bows himself before the Dark Lord and promises to serve him.

In some part of his mind, Blaise wishes to be back in the library in Varese.

/\/\/\/\/\

Looking back, Blaise can say that it all started to change for him when Draco turns to Potter’s side. There’s a new uneasiness to the other Death Eaters, although no one dares to say anything out loud. But the knowledge that someone as high-standing as the Malfoy heir is willing to switch to the blood-traitors and mudbloods is concerning.

It makes Blaise start to think. And about things that Blaise doesn’t want to think about.

The fact that Malfoy turns to the blood-traitors and mudbloods irritates the Dark Lord, if his increased tendency to throw around cruciatus whenever anyone mentions Draco is a sign.  
Irritated being a major understatement.

The Dark Lord starts to go through the ranks, searching for weak links, weak constitutions, being weak in any way. Blaise looks the Dark Lord in the eyes and doesn’t allow him in, standing there under the mental onslaught.

The Dark Lord stops and exits his mind, staring at Blaise with an unreadable expression, “Are you hiding something from me?”

Blaise lowers his head demurely, “No my Lord, I wanted to demonstrate my ability to help you and this cause with what I have to offer. If you so desire, I will lower my shields for you.”

There is silence, and the other Death Eaters behind Blaise are absolutely silent. No one even dares to breathe.

Finally, what passes for a smile appears on his face, “Show me you aren’t hiding something from me.”

Blaise drops his shields and allows the Dark Lord entry into his mind. It feels like oil, like snakes, like sludge is sliding down his spine, like his mother is slowly leaning in close with a blank expression on her face. But finally, finally, the Dark Lord leaves Blaise’s mind, and in the safety of his own mind, behind his walls, Blaise lets out a sigh of relief.

Blaise isn’t sure if that’s a good or bad thing that the Dark Lord starts to not pay as much attention to him.

/\/\/\/\/\

He starts to shut away everything, carelessly going through the motions, through whatever the Dark Lord assigns him to do. He doesn’t even know how stained his hands are anymore.

His mother greets him one day, leaning into his space as her eyes search his, looking for something that only she knows. Blaise can’t even find it in himself to care. His mother slowly smiles, a proud tilt to her lips, and then leaves without another word.

Why does it feel as though as though he has just sold his soul to the devil?

And why is it that he just knows that his mother still won’t acknowledge his presence and will still hate him? 

His mother invites him to stay for dinner, and then the night. And it is as though the beginning years of his life never happened, as though she never threatened him. He wants to say that this means that it will all be fine, that it will all work out.

But the Wilkes Manor has never felt like home. And even now, with his mother’s tentative approval, it still feels as though the Manor is testing him, testing him and finding him lacking.

/\/\/\/\/\

At some point, Blaise realizes that he hasn’t gone back to Varese in a while.

He’s too scared.

/\/\/\/\/\

He doesn’t know what mission this is, why they’re doing it, nothing. He simply nods at Rookwood, who is nearly bouncing with excitement, and waits for the Dark Lord to give out the specifics. The two of them haven’t worked together before, so there’s no small talk between them.

The Dark Lord sends them to France, to Lyon. Rookwood has been itching to do something, and has apparently been bugging people around him to tell him about their exploits and how it all goes down. It’s a miracle neither of them are cursed for his annoying tendencies.

Rookwood is ecstatic for the mission.

Blaise is not.

Rookwood picks the house; following a father as the man returns home from work. The house is private, out in the country. There is ivy crawling up the side of the house, crickets chirp softly in the distance. The house is old, bricks old and faded, some of them crumbling apart. Inside the house, the lights slowly turn on as the family moves behind the curtains. Rookwood wants to rush in now, but Blaise manages to make him wait at least a little bit, ostensibly to give the family time to relax before they burst in. Blaise isn’t really sure that’s why he stops Rookwood. Perhaps it’s how the father bends down when his son comes running out, a tender expression on his face as he runs a hand over the kid’s hair.

Regardless, they wait until the sun is just about to set before Rookwood blasts open the door. Pieces of the door catch the older kid in the arm, sending him to the floor. The mother instantly dives for him, hauling him up and behind her as she places herself between them and the two kids. As the father comes running in, Rookwood sends him backwards and flying into the doorframe. It catches the father in the head, causing him to start bleeding.

Blaise only finds himself standing there, wand half-raised.

Rookwood turns to the mother and the children, a sick smile crossing his face as he stares at the three. The woman is slowly backing the children up, aiming for another doorway leading further into the house. She doesn’t let her gaze waver from Rookwood.

As Blaise watches, the father gets up, blood pouring down the side of his face, and snags an old clock from the counter. The expression on the muggle’s face is one of determination, of knowing that he probably won’t be able to actually do anything, but determined to try anyways. He then takes the clock and bashes it against Rookwood’s head.

Rookwood goes down, nearly hitting his head on the corner of the counter.

Blaise finds himself freezing as the muggle turns to him, clock in hand, face set as he moves to stand in front of his fallen family. The woman is silent, pale as a ghost as she clutches the small child to her. The older child is trembling, hiding behind his mother as blood pours down his arm.

_why is it that muggles are more loving than his own mother_

_what did he do wrong_

Inexplicably, Blaise finds himself lowering his wand. The father doesn’t move though, trembling slightly, but the clock stays at a ready. Then Blaise steps over to Rookwood, bends down, and apparates the two of them out of there.

They’re in Varese, just outside the old summer home. Rookwood is missing an arm, and Blaise staggers to the side as the exhaustion hits him all at once. He looks down at Rookwood, and then walks away, entering the wards of the summer home. He doesn’t even notice whether or not it smells like apples.

That night, Blaise gets spectacularly drunk and wakes up the next morning feeling as though a herd of hippogriffs stomped all over his brain.

He doesn’t even bother leaving the home for a little bit, just stays in bed, hiding away. It’s only the burning of his mark that finally gets him moving, throwing on some clothes and pretending that he isn’t hungover. Rookwood is nowhere to be seen when he apparates back, and he takes a moment to be infinitely grateful that he isn’t back.

When the Dark Lord asks for Blaise’s report, he doesn’t hesitate to tell the Dark Lord that Rookwood attacked him and then disappeared. He hasn’t seen the other man in hours. The Dark Lord is clearly displeased, shooting a crucio at Blaise almost half-heartedly, but Blaise clenches his hands, bites down on his lip, and refuses to scream.

The Dark Lord gives a kill on sight order for Rookwood, and that’s the last anyone sees of Rookwood.

/\/\/\/\/\

(unknown to Blaise is how the wards of the summer house react to finding Rookwood attempting to stagger inside.

how the wards read Rookwood’s intentions, how the wards read Blaise’s heart, his intentions, and then utterly wipe Rookwood from the earth.

wards [magicks] have never been understood. Their protectiveness goes unnoticed.

if only Blaise would act.)

/\/\/\/\/\

A small child is the reason the first resistance hideout falls. Carelessly, he asks his mother to repeat where to go if he ever needs a place to hide. But the Death Eaters who overhear are impatient and so they go immediately, not waiting to tell the Dark Lord about it. This turns out to be their downfall because the majority of the rebellion escapes into the night, only losing three people.

The Dark Lord is furious with the lost opportunity and kills the five Death Eaters who instigated the attack.

/\/\/\/\/\

The next time the resistance hideout falls is unpleasant, for everyone.

There’s a pitched battle happening in a small village, near Hogsmeade. It has a small wizarding population, nobody important, but is a strategic standing point to get closer to Hogwarts. The rebellion is using tactics that Blaise doesn’t recognize, popping out of windows and over the roofs to throw spells at the invading Death Eaters. 

Blaise isn’t sure who figures it out, only hearing some of the Death Eaters start yelling about how the secret keeper is here, how it’s one of the Patil sisters. It’s easy from there to tell that someone has found her; one of the Death Eaters who Blaise doesn’t recognize has grabbed the sister around the waist, hauling her backwards in an attempt to get out of the anti-apparition wards. She is fighting viciously, a curved knife waving in the air as she attempts to stab the Death Eater. She does manage to sink it into his shoulder, but the man doesn’t even pause. Someone else comes over to help, ripping the knife out of her hand and grabbing her legs.

Blaise finds that he can’t move, watching as the Patil girl is slowly being pulled towards the edge of the barrier. The rebellion members are doing their best to get to her, someone who Blaise thinks might be Lee Jordan is particularly vicious as he cuts through the Death Eaters. But the Death Eaters are equally vicious as they keep everyone from getting close enough to help.

And Blaise only watches as they finally manage to drag her out of the barrier and promptly apparate. Jordan lets out a scream and unleashes a barrage of explosive spells that has everyone ducking for cover. Jordan goes on a rampage from there, making even the people on his side flee away from him.

The Italian wants to do something, anything, but his mark begins to burn and he hurries outside the barrier to apparate back to the Selwyn mansion.

The scent of blood greets him.

The Patil’s are Purebloods, from a long line of well-respected wizards, both in Britain and India. But the Dark Lord has no care for that, only for himself and how much he can rule.

The Dark Lord has him enter Patil’s mind. It’s well-organized, a giant library that resembles the hidden library of Alexandria. She is sitting in the one chair available, delicately sipping at a cup of tea. She must be Padma.

“Zabini. Are you here to break my mind?” she asks in an almost pleasant voice. If Blaise were anyone else, he might even be convinced that Padma is helpless. But her voice has a steel note to it, the titles of the books on a closer look are more orientated towards combat spells than anything else, the knives hanging on the wall seem to be dripping blood, the windows in the library showing a raging storm.

“If you just tell them, then they will be kinder to you, I promise you that,” he tells her, carefully approaching her. 

She only takes another sip of tea, “I am a Sikh. And I do not bow before the face of injustice. The rest of the rebellion will have already fled to a new location. My death will only make it so that they can find a new secret keeper. I’ve already spoken with Parvati at length about what would happen if such an event would occur. I will give the secret in ten hours. By then, the rebellion will have moved.”

Zabini stares at her, sees how she trembles slightly as she sets the teacup down.

Then he kneels in front of her, staring at her pleadingly, “Please Padma, you have to know he will only torture you until you give the secret, please.”

She stares at him as though she has never seen him before. Then she reaches out and places a palm against his cheek. Their skin colours are close to matching, he recognizes distantly.

“I will die knowing full well what to expect. Can you say the same thing for yourself?”

Then she pulls back from him, “Go tell him that I have nothing to say.” Blaise takes a second to close his eyes, wishing that he was brave enough to do something, anything. When he opens them again, she is watching him with almost a sad look on her face.

Then he exits her mind. He stays kneeling in front of her for a moment, watching as she sucks in a breath, eyes still closed. She opens them briefly to look at him, and then closes them again, dismissing him.

“Well Zabini?” the Dark Lord says, not bothering to move from his seat.

Blaise hesitates only a fraction of a second, the slight twitch the Dark Lord makes towards his wand making Blaise continue, “She is the secret keeper.”

Never before has a sound left him with such a feeling of despair, Padma’s soft exhale behind him making him wish he could find it in himself to do something, anything. A smile, if it could be called that,  
slowly rises on the Dark Lord’s face. Slowly, lethargically, he rises from his seat, black robes swishing about him as he approaches Padma. He barely spares Blaise a glance as he flicks his fingers towards Blaise. Hurriedly, the Italian gives one final glance to Padma, and in return, she gives him one last thought. A book, a page, and then she closes her eyes, breaking the connection. Blaise hides behind some of the other Death Eaters. The Dark Lord approaches her, wand raised. 

And as the Dark Lord tortures her, Blaise looks away.

It’s the longest ten hours of his life.

/\/\/\/\/\

He goes to Varese.

It doesn’t smell like apples.

/\/\/\/\/\

He finds the book, finds the page.

The Dark Lord has horcruxes. Blaise lets the question of if it is all worth it cross his mind once before he swiftly crushes it.

/\/\/\/\/\

Then Theo starts appearing at meetings, and Blaise wonders, because Theo is unmasked for one, and was very definitely on Potter’s side, for two. He doesn’t say anything to anyone, just stands around and smirks in an unsettling way.

It reminds Blaise of fifth year with Umbridge, when Theo found first years and gave them detentions just because he could.

And the Dark Lord is always pleased with Theo, no matter what he does. And Blaise realizes, even if Theo never says, that Theo, Theo is the one who told the Dark Lord that Padma was the secret keeper.  
After all, Theo is the one to suggest to the Dark Lord to put the Selwyn Manor under a Fidelius Charm, just like the resistance.

Blaise has never hated someone as much as he hates Theo-Nott- when Nott gives the Dark Lord a sincere smile. He no longer knows where the Selwyn Manor is, just that he knows how to get there.

/\/\/\/\/\

The Dark Lord doesn’t enter Blaise’s mind anymore, not since the one time he tested Blaise, and Blaise takes a moment to be grateful for that. It means he can take a moment to go to Varese and get some purple hyacinth and return to Britain to lay it on Padma’s grave.

He kneels there for who knows how long, simply gazing at the headstone. And for the first time, he truly starts to wonder if this is worth it. If all that the Dark Lord is working towards is actually something he wants to be a part of.

And for months, Blaise visits with purple hyacinths and sits and thinks. He likes to think that Padma would be okay with it.

/\/\/\/\/\

Nearly a year later, Blaise has to make a decision. He has to act. Because this time, the secret keeper is a muggle. This time, Nott drags in the muggle by her arm, the woman fighting him even through her obvious nausea.

They’re all kneeling around the Dark Lord’s throne, listening to him tell them what to do and how they should proceed when Nott bursts in.

“My Lord, I have found the Muggle,” he announces proudly, like a cat bringing a dead animal to its’ owner. The Dark Lord rises as the muggle is shoved forward, the muggle daring to shoot Nott a glare as she straightens.

“Why did you run, Muggle?” the Dark Lord has the curious tone of attempting to sound light-hearted, attempting to sound friendly, but it makes everyone twitch just slightly.

The woman stares at the Dark Lord with seemingly no fear, and Blaise just wants to shake her, to get her to realize how dangerous that is.

“I was a lone woman walking home and someone started following me, of course I was going to start running.”

She must be insane.

“Was it because Harry Potter approached you?” the Dark Lord asks, the venom when he says Potter’s name audible to everyone, but the muggle only looks around in confusion.

“I don’t know anyone named that.”

There’s a pause, and Blaise doesn’t know how well the Dark Lord reads social ques, body language, but Blaise has the sinking feeling that this woman really doesn’t know Potter. That she is going to die because she bares a passing resemblance to some muggle that might be the secret keeper.

And when the Dark Lord pulls out his wand, Blaise braces himself for what happens next.

“Crucio!”

The muggle is screaming. Blaise has to lock down on everything, force himself to not move, not breathe, to not do anything. His nails dig into his palms when she hits the floor and finally lets himself take a breath when the Dark Lord stops the spell.

“Now. Will you tell us what we need to know?”

There’s a pause before the muggle speaks, her voice hoarse from the screaming, “I told you, I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

The Dark Lord kneels next to the muggle, blocking everyone’s view as he says, “You had contact with Harry Potter, about ten months ago, did you not?”

“No, I didn’t meet anyone like that,” she insists, and Blaise wonders if it would be worth it to grab the muggle and apparate away, to apparate to some far away place where the Dark Lord couldn’t find either of them as she begins screaming again.

Finally the Dark Lord stands up, spinning to face Nott, “Nott. I thought you said this was the Muggle that Potter approached?”

Nott hurries to bow, “My Lord, I assure you, this was the girl in the photo.”

The Dark Lord makes a humming noise as he thinks, spinning to look at the muggle again, “Perhaps she has been obliviated?”

Blaise closes his eyes and wishes for a moment that he hadn’t proven himself with Occlumency and Legilimency to the Dark Lord because Blaise just knows that he will have to enter the muggle’s mind.

“Would anyone be aware if a secret keeper can still keep the secret if they are no longer aware of it themselves?”

Well leave it to the Dark Lord to continue to think of more horrifying ideas.

“Does no one have an answer for me?” the Dark Lord suddenly hisses when no one answers him fast enough. But no one wants to actually answer him, especially about something that none of them have obviously thought about before.

“It’s never been tested my Lord,” one of the other Death Eater’s offers. In response, the Dark Lord throws a crucio at him and Blaise takes a second to be glad he hadn’t spoken up.

Of course, then the Dark Lord immediately calls on him, “Zabini, get over here and check.”

Blaise approaches, his face carefully blank.

The muggle looks up at him, fear and defiance warring for the dominant emotion. As he enters her mind, he is hit suddenly with the remembrance of the muggle father, determined to protect his family even knowing that it would probably be futile, with Padma in her mind and refusing to break.

The two are standing in a muggle train, the smell hitting him all at once and causing him to inwardly gag at the filth around him. The muggle is standing next to him, hands wringing together as she stares down the train.

Blaise blinks at the sight of Potter walking down the train. Sitting next to the muggle, he starts a conversation with her. Then he gets up and walks away. 

It takes him a half second to realize that the memory had been fake.

And that’s only because the muggle sags in relief next to him, her relief palpable here in her mind. That’s also when he realizes that the nerves she had was not for him being in her mind, but more directed towards the scene in front of him.

“That was an excellent job,” he says, and watches as the blood drains from her face, taking a half step away from him, “Your nerves were what had me looking deeper, you need to redirect them to nerves of the person reading your mind, that will cause them to not look where they should. Anyone else won’t be aware of the intricacies of muggle transportation.” He says as though he knows the intricacies of muggle transportation, which is probably the most ridiculous thing he’s ever implied in his life.

“Are they going to kill me?” she asks in a near whisper.

Blaise sighs as Padma’s face goes through his head, “Unless I can come up with a good enough excuse to keep you alive, probably. We have some time here where we can talk, but not much. You’re holding up really well by the way.”

The muggle gives him a tired smile, and Blaise can only compare how similar Padma and this muggle are, “I made a pinky promise.” Because that sounds like a real thing, “If I die, will the secret be safe or will he need to make another one?”

“Make a new one. What happens after a secret keeper dies is that each person who is aware of the secret then becomes a secret keeper themselves. And since Nott is a traitor, the Dark Lord would know exactly where to go.”

And if Blaise can figure out how to kill Theo-Nott-whatever then he would do it in an instant because it’s his fault that Padma died. Not that he’s ever had any confirmation for that, but how else would the Dark Lord know about Padma?

“Can you get word to them that I’m here?” she asks, interrupting his thoughts.

Blaise shakes his head, “I don’t even think Potter knows I’m on his side.” Blaise wants to say that Potter has no idea that Blaise is ready to break some Death Eater bones, but also knows that is not going to make the muggle feel any better, “I don’t dare try and make contact with him to tell him. There may be other resistance members in the Death Eaters, but none have made it into the Inner Circle.”

She brought her hand up to her mouth and began chewing on a nail. Inwardly Blaise cringes because that’s super gross but doesn’t say anything because it is a serious situation. Allowances can be made.

“What if…” she stops and looks at him before continuing, “What if I told you the secret. You then got out and went there and told them.”

That…might work. But at the same time, with how the Dark Lord has lived so far, through everything that has happened, with all that is going on with the horcrux, with the ever continuing possibility that the Dark Lord could easily demand access to Blaise’s mind in order to prove his loyalty, things couldn’t be simple.

“The problem is, the Dark Lord is semi-immortal. Potter and his resistance are still searching for the last piece. Once it is found, then the Dark Lord can be killed. Having Potter lead a frontal attack at this time would be ill-advised.”

Hesitantly, she offers an idea, “Perhaps…perhaps you send a letter to him, through the port, the norm…muggle way. Then tell the Dark Lord that it looks as though my mind has been tampered with, but you aren’t sure. It would require delicate work as you worked through my mind.

There’s a part of him that takes notice of how she uses his terminology, how she adjusts her speech so that Blaise is able to understand quickly and use the information in a useful way, and he decides to think about that at a later point in time, “The second part, for keeping you alive could work. I cannot promise you that it will be painless, in fact it might even get worse from here.”

Knowing the Dark Lord, it was almost a guarantee.

She lets out a nervous breath, but nods, “Do it. Will the letter idea work?”

Blaise hesitates, but gives a small shrug, “I will work on it though.”

The muggle gives a couple nods, wrapping her arms around herself, then whispers to herself, before squeezing herself tightly, “Let’s go.”

And Blaise has never been a touchy person, has never felt comfortable with people, but he can’t forget how broken Padma was, how much this is going to hurt the muggle, how much it is going to hurt himself, and allows himself to wrap an arm around her, squeezing her once.

Then he breaks the spell and watches as the muggle sucks in a breath, her eyes frantically searching his.

“Well Zabini?”

For a moment, Blaise wonders. Wonders if it would just be easier to tell the Dark Lord. Wonders if it would simply be kinder.

Then he stands, and turns to look at the Dark Lord.

“There seem to be some sort of block in her mind. I hesitate to simply tear through them, due to the nature of the fidelius. With your permission, I would ask that I am able to search through her mind to  
find and destroy the blocks while leaving the information intact.”

The Dark Lord doesn’t like his answer at first, “Is she the secret keeper?”

Taking a moment to steel himself, Blaise answers, “It is… possible, my Lord. But I hesitate to say yes for now. It may be that she came in contact with wizards before, perhaps was in a relationship with one that ended badly and needed to be covered up.”

“Did she meet with Potter?”

“It is possible. About ten months ago, she was approached by someone who appeared to resemble Potter, but it wasn’t an exact likeness.”

Please, please, please, please, _please_

“Very well Zabini. Do not disappoint me.” Nodding, Blaise goes back to the circle, pushing down the panic of what he has just done, what he has just committed to doing for who knows how long.

“Look at that girl. You might be useful after all.”

There’s a silence as the Dark Lord just looks at the muggle, examines her as though with one look he could peel her open and discover all her secrets.

“Why are you not scared of me Muggle?” the Dark Lord finally asks almost conversationally. The woman doesn’t answer, and Blaise takes a moment to appreciate that at least she doesn’t mouth off to the people who could kill her with two words, but it seems that the Dark Lord actually wants her to answer because when an expression of rage crosses his face, the muggle hurries to speak.

“I can’t tell when you wish for me to be silent or when to speak. I figure it’s better to stay silent rather than to make some inane comment that won’t help my situation.”

There’s a pause as the Dark Lord thinks, then he turns fully to face the Death Eaters, “Dismissed! Keep on with your original duties.”

As Blaise leaves, he risks a look at her, hoping that he doesn’t have to be the cause of another person’s death before he too leaves the room.

The screaming starts a minute later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the final bit, enjoy!

/\/\/\/\/\

The months pass, and Blaise finds himself learning a lot more than he ever thought he would as he helps her craft a believable lie in her mind.

Her name is Laura Makenzie Crews.

She’s an only child.

She’s in university.

She doesn’t quite know what she wants to study, but she wants to help people. 

She started studying kickboxing when a mate got stabbed.

She likes turtles.

Her friend once went to Canada and bought her a baby moose keychain.

She wants to go to Italy someday.

Her favourite colour is the shade of the sky as the sun is setting, just before the black of the night takes over.

She likes to drive cars, going as fast as possible on racetracks.

She tried to ride a horse once and broke her arm.

She likes the muggle film Aladdin.

She knows how to kill a man.

Blaise doesn’t know what to do with all the information he learns. Laura thinks she isn’t creative, that she has always failed at creative writing classes or art classes or any other sort of similar classes, but as she weaves memories, Blaise thinks she might be one of the most creative people he knows. And perhaps it’s just because of her sheer stubbornness, but she’s able to craft memories that are fake, that look fake, and then create a believable memory underneath it.

He finds himself in awe of her.

He has to force himself to keep a distance from her, to not get too attached. But when she’s not looking, eyebrows furrowing, he finds himself wanting to smooth the line between her eyebrows, wanting to take the moment of chaos and turn it to one of peace and calm where she can have a moment to breathe without feeling the pressure.

He tries so hard to get a letter out, he tries so hard, but he doesn’t know how to work the muggle post, and when he does attempt, as just a test, but it’s so odd, and he just can’t figure it out, and he wants to rip his hair out in frustration. He gets advice from Laura, her carefully going through her memories to show him how. And then, of course, the next time he attempts, letter firmly in hand, one of the Death Eaters notices and gives him a funny look. 

Blaise doesn’t dare try again.

/\/\/\/\/\

It’s month four, week three, day six when she has a breakdown, the mental image she was crafting dispersing into a grey landscape. Blaise just sits there and holds her tight against him, rocking her back and forth as he whispers nothing, anything in Italian to her.

He wishes he could do more.

/\/\/\/\/\

That evening, he goes to Varese to scream into the night sky.

When he finishes, he collapses to his knees, burying his face in his hands. And for the first time, he regrets all that has led him to this moment. And as his shoulders begin to shake, he realizes that he smells apples.

/\/\/\/\/\

(here’s what he will never know.

the wards, the magic, the ancient zabini magicks, they look in his heart, they look in his soul,

and before, they found him lacking. they found him continuing his mother’s legacy. and they wept.

but now? but now they look, and they see, they see what he could never see in himself. 

they see _hope_.)

/\/\/\/\/\

When Blaise learns that Hughes tries to touch Laura, he sees red. She broke his nose, but Blaise is the one to drop him off, practically gift-wrapped, near a known resistance hideout. He only waits long enough to see them find Hughes, feeling vindictively glad at how they react to Hughes’ presence, before he leaves again.

It doesn’t even hit him until later that his first thought wasn’t to kill the man, like he would have done just six months ago. It feels like it should be really telling that he wants to tell Laura, that he wants to show off his decision. That his first instinct to not killing a man is to tell the muggle who has no place in this world that she has affected him so much that he’s changing.

But Blaise doesn’t.

And instead, he helps her build her mind, build her memories, and hopes that the both of them can make it out alive.

He promises himself that after this is all done, that after the Dark Lord is defeated, he’s going to take Laura to Italy. He doesn’t really acknowledge that, even to himself, but when they’re in her mind, and she looks exhausted even as she works to make a fake wizard, basing the man off some old mate from her childhood, some part of him softens and he remakes the promise to himself.

/\/\/\/\/\

When Blaise finds out that they deliberately cripple her, he starts researching on how he can heal her.

Turns out Draco has been busy working on healing, along with Parvati, but Draco was injured recently. Part of Blaise wants to go find his old friend, find Parvati, find Madam Pomfrey, find someone, anyone who can help.

But he doesn’t dare leave Laura alone for long, not with how she’s barely holding on.

She looks so tired.

/\/\/\/\/\

Seven months, three weeks, and five days into her being captured by the Dark Lord, Blaise wakes up with a burning in his Dark Mark.

It’s a thousand times worse than any other call, than any other physical pain he has felt, and Blaise hurries to throw on some clothes, racing to leave the Wilkes Manor as quickly as he dares. It feels like an omen when the doors slam heavily behind him.

He takes a moment to turn and look at the Manor. It stares back at him, looks into his soul. It feels like a test, and Blaise raises his chin just slightly. Then he turns, and apparates away.

/\/\/\/\/\

(lenoria wilkes is born knowing how and where she fits into the world. she knows her duty. she knows that to further her familys fortunes, she will do things no man could ever do.

she does this gladly. and everything goes according to her plans.

until alessandro zabini. until the baby. she cant get rid of it, the zabini family too well-known, too well-connected. the son of the second born son is a boon, is important. she cant get rid of both alessandro and the baby.

she hates the brat. she hates that the wilkes manor starts to welcome the baby. she hates it all. She wants him gone. 

but he has his fathers brains, hesitation and wariness making the boy aware to avoid her, to spend his time in the library. the manor starts to show him the books, show him the family secrets. lenoria sends him to the malfoys.

the boy goes to the home in varese, the one that she has always hated because it hates her. she hates how when she catches sight of him, she can sense the welcoming magicks of the zabinis and how it wraps around him. _it was supposed to be hers_. 

she makes the boy bow to the dark lord, hoping that he dies and she can inherit it all, but he continues to live. she brings him back to the manor, turning all her focus on making the wilkes magicks turn him away, turn against him.

why wont they follow her orders?

(because magick is no respector to persons. because magick has existed since the beginning of time, and will continue to exist long after the earth is gone. she has no hope to understanding the intricacies that go into magick, that go into wards, that go into people. how can she force magick to do her bidding? but when the boy stands in front of the home, the magick searching his soul, searching his hopes, dreams, wishes, fears, terrors, the wilkes magicks bow to the zabini magicks. 

no one will ever understand what that means)

the boy leaves in a hurry one morning, and lenoria only watches from the upstairs window. somehow she just knows that she wont see him again. she has failed.)

/\/\/\/\/\ 

When Blaise appears on the Selwyn grounds, he finds that the resistance has brought the fight here. He barely spares a thought to them, to how they found out the secret, but almost immediately his thoughts turn to Laura, and the possibility of getting her out of here for good.

No one even bothers to stop him, not questioning why Blaise hurries to Laura’s cell. She’s barely conscious, muttering something under her breath. It looks as though a piece of the ceiling hit her in the head, and Blaise is careful as he pulls her upright, conjuring some cloth for her arm.

He stops as her good hand comes up to grip at his shirt, seeing her eyes focus on him as he puts her arm in the sling, “Potter’s forces are storming on the mansion. This is your chance.”

Carefully he helps her to her feet, one arm slung over his shoulder as she tries to help support herself. She’s so light though, Blaise barely notices her weight. That’s something that will have to be fixed as soon as they’re out of here.

“You…” she starts, but sucks in a pained breath when he jostles her just slightly too hard and automatically apologizes softly, “You have to come too.”

Blaise says nothing for a while, making his way carefully through the mansion. He finally realizes that he hasn’t said anything in response, and so just says instead, “My goal is to get you out of here.”

She doesn’t respond, and Blaise starts to worry that she’s fallen unconscious again.

“Why…” she pauses as Blaise adjusts his hold on her, trying to make it more comfortable for her, but knowing that she was in immense pain no matter what, “Why now? I thought you couldn’t get them a letter?”

Realizing that she’s talking about Potter again, he shakes his head as he answers, “You’re right, I couldn’t. I’m hoping that this means that they finally managed to get rid of whatever was making the Dark Lord immortal. Perhaps they just don’t have any other options. Either way this is the best chance we have of getting you out of here.”

“Where are we going?”

“The anti-apparation wards are still set up, so we either have to make it to the meeting room or get outside the wards.” And there’s no way he’s venturing into the more exploding part of the mansion with Laura.

“Meeting…” she starts to say, but Blaise has to swing them quickly back around the corner, biting his lip as she makes a small pain-filled sound, pressing her face into his shoulder. He wants to take a moment to do something, anything, but movement catches his eye and the only warning he is able to give Laura for his next movements is by tightening his grip on her waist and swinging them out of the way of a spell.

“What are you doing with it Blaise? The Dark Lord specifically ordered that it stay in its’ room,” the quiet drawl of Nott has Blaise cursing under his breath, mind desperately whirling as he thinks of anything that might explain this.

“Theo,” he hisses in response, “Leading the resistance into the Dark Lord’s hideout? What will he say?”

But Nott only laughs and Blaise knows just with that sound that he hasn’t succeeded, “I did it on his orders! I let it slip that we had it, their secret keeper, and they rushed to prep themselves. They’re getting too close to destroying him, and the Dark Lord wanted to be able to prove that even now he could stull destroy them. But, Blaise, you didn’t answer my question.”

And Blaise is so, so tired of this war. Of the fighting, the pain, the fear, and he just can’t find it in himself to come up with a good enough excuse.

“Oho? Is there really another traitor among the Dark Lord’s forces?” Nott laughs in a deranged way, worrying Blaise as he continues, “I mean, we all knew Draco couldn’t cut it, not after that fiasco at Malfoy Manor, and the Greengrass’ weren’t entirely surprising, but you? Come on Blaise, what are you thinking? It’s just a Muggle!”

Blaise presses his lips together as he straightens slightly, staring Nott-Theo- in the eyes, “She’s not just a Muggle. Her name is Laura. And she’s worth more of you than you could ever imagine.”

Theo’s expression twists into hatred as he swings his wand up and casting a spell. Blaise dodges, and just barely hears Laura instructing him to drop her. He does so as gently as he can, but has to jump backwards to avoid another spell. He doesn’t want to think about what types of spells Theo is casting, but he doesn’t hold back. He uses spells that he has only read about, their descriptions vague in   
what the spell does, but Blaise knows that for Laura he is willing to use them.

As the two of them dance around each other, Blaise finds himself reminiscing on how the two of them would practice dueling, full of jokes and smiles. There’s something happening here, something that he isn’t sure about, and Theo seems to notice as well, the manic smile disappearing from his face as his eyebrows furrow in concentration. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Blaise sees Laura push herself to her feet, and shoots her a worried look. She waves him off, and his momentary distraction allows Theo to score a cut with the cutting curse.   
He hisses in pain, but is more distracted in making sure that he keeps Theo’s attention on himself and not on Laura who is beginning to make her way closer to the battle.

Then without warning, she brings her leg back and kicks Theo in between his legs. At the same moment, Blaise casts a curse that he isn’t quite sure what it does, having found it in the Wilkes library, but Theo makes a pain-filled sound, and then slowly sinks to the ground. Simultaneously, Laura falls against the wall, slowly sliding down it as she tries to control her breathing.

Blaise knows he’s staring, but he can’t help but be impressed with her. 

“You have a bad leg, you shouldn’t be using it,” he says instead of the praise he wants to actually say to her and he sighs inwardly. He makes his way over to her, internally wincing as his leg protests the movements.

She laughs breathlessly, “And you have a bad shoulder now. At this point we’re both injured enough where it doesn’t really matter.”

Making a face at that truth, Blaise turns to Theo-Nott- and creates tree roots to hold Nott there. It wasn’t supposed to drain his magic or anything, but Blaise wasn’t entirely sure about that.

Dismissing Nott from his mind, he goes to help Laura back up, about to pull her arm over his shoulders again.

“I don’t want to hurt your shoulder,” she protests and Blaise finds himself laughing just slightly.

As he helps her up he explains, “At this point, it’s like you said. We’re both injured enough where it doesn’t matter. It’s your left leg that’s messed up anyways, I have to put your left arm over my shoulder to help keep your weight off the leg.”

She doesn’t say another word, and as they stand up, the two of them stagger against the wall for a moment before Blaise manages to get them moving down the hallway again.

“What type of spell was that? It isn’t going to start eating your flesh or anything?” she asks out of nowhere.

Shaking his head, Blaise responds, “Just a cutting curse. Perhaps Theo was simply hoping that I was joking, that I was under duress. Perhaps there was some part of him that acknowledged that what he was doing was wrong. Or perhaps he never had any more creativity than that. Who knows.”

“At least your shoulder won’t start to be eaten. Let’s call that our good news of the day.”

“If that’s the best we can do today, I worry about our odds.” Blaise says a bit drily, startling a laugh out of her.

/\/\/\/\/\

Getting to the meeting room is surprisingly not as hard as Blaise fears. They only run into a couple of other Death Eaters, and manage to somehow bluster their way through all interactions.

For a moment, Blaise pauses and looks at the way to freedom. Then it seems as though they both take a breath before walking into the room.

“It’s only the dais that we can apparate from, so we’re almost there,” Blaise says.

They’re so close, and then Laura draws his attention to something off to the side, “What is that?”

Searching the room, he sees the lump off in the corner and has to take a moment to figure out what it is before answering, “It’s your bag I believe, from when you were first brought here.”

“It’s still here?” Then she is nudging him to go over and while he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, he leads her over. He’s itching to leave, to make it to safety, but she seems oddly entranced by the bag, and he only helps her down. She looks through it, making a small sound when she opens it, and then closes it again.

“You should just leave it there.”

She shrugs slightly, and then pulls it on, wincing slightly. Blaise is feeling more antsy than ever, and gets her back up with only a small remark, “Or we could take it with us I guess,” and then they are making their way to the dais again. They’re so close, so, so close, and then the Dark Lord appears on the dais.

Blaise curses their luck, this situation, the timing, and every single choice that he has made that has led to this moment.

The Dark Lord looks utterly surprised, and Blaise files that away to deal with later, before the surprised expression turns a carefully blank one.

“Zabini. The Secret Keeper was supposed to stay in its’ room.”

And Blaise doesn’t know how to bluff his way from this situation, how to do anything when faced with the Dark Lord head on. But then Laura speaks, and Blaise follows her instructions, bolting for the dais.

It actually works for a moment, sending the Dark Lord stumbling back a few steps, and Blaise reaches the dais. He’s about to apparate, about to get out, when he sees the curse out of the corner of his eye. He does his best to avoid it, but it hits him in the side, and the last thing Blaise is aware of is hitting the ground hard.

/\/\/\/\/\

Blaise comes to himself with everything hurting. He makes some noise, he’s aware of that, and then he is pushing himself up, trying to make sure that Laura isn’t about to fight the saviors of the wizarding world, about to kill herself from the effort.

Something’s wrong in him, he can tell, it’s hard to breathe, hard to move even, but Blaise forces himself to, placing himself in front of Laura as best as he can. If he’s being honest, he can barely remember what he says to the group, to Laura, but he knows that when she finally collapses, he’s worried beyond belief.

Draco has shown up, and Blaise knows that Draco is good, that he will help, but he can’t help but be suspicious, worry about what might happen when he finally follows Laura’s example. He tries his best to avoid Parvati, who he can just barely see from how hard he is concentrating on Draco’s face. He doesn’t want her to know that he was the one to tell the Dark Lord about Padma, about what happened.

And when Draco finally promises, swears, to keep her safe, keep her alive, Blaise allows himself to drift into the blackness.

/\/\/\/\/\

When Blaise next opens his eyes, he is looking at the familiar ceiling of the hospital wing.

For a moment, he is relaxed, sinking into the comforting blankets. Then it all hits him and he bolts upright, ignoring how everything aches and hurts with the movement. But he doesn’t care about that, too busy looking for Laura.

He can’t find her for a moment, and he doesn’t even register that Madam Pomfrey and Draco are rushing towards his bed, but then he sees the blonde hair spilling over the pillow, the woman breathing softly.

He’s about to throw off the sheets and make his way over, but then Madam Pomfrey is there and pushing him back onto the bed. Draco is next to him, and while the blond is trying to be subtle, Blaise can see how he has his wand ready. So Blaise forces himself to calm down, allowing Madam Pomfrey to gently push him back down.

“You’ve sustained a decent amount of damage, do try to not undo our work,” she says, and only because Blaise knows Madam Pomfrey and how she is does he force himself to relax as best as he can into the pillows. She begins casting diagnostic charms over him, murmuring in a low tone to Draco, using terminology that Blaise doesn’t understand.

Finally though, she turns to him, expression serious.

“Mr. Zabini. You will be fine. The curse that Voldemort used on you was one designed to eat away at your insides. Any longer and you probably wouldn’t have survived. We’ve kept you unconscious as we’ve worked to get rid of any lasting traces. The cutting curse was easily fixed, although most of our concentration was on the other one, so we’re going to keep it bandaged for a little longer. Otherwise, you’re in excellent condition.”

“What about Laura?” Blaise asks, daring to push himself into a more upright position, eyes glancing over at her, “Will she be okay?”

Madam Pomfrey follows his eyes to look at the blonde, “That’s her name then, Laura? Well, Laura will be fine with time. It’s been slow going working through everything that’s happened, and additionally working around her lack of a magical core. There was a curse cast that was designed to pull her spine from her body as slowly as possible, but we managed to correct that quickly enough. Otherwise, her arm and leg will eventually heal, although, again, it will take time. I imagine that with a good potion regime, she will have both working in perfect condition eventually.”

Blaise lets out a shuddering breath and relaxes into the pillows for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Please, can I go sit with her?” he asks, opening his eyes to beg the two of them.

They exchange glances, and Madam Pomfrey must read something in Draco’s eyes because she nods, and then proceeds to help him out of bed and over to the chair next to Laura. Carefully sitting down in it, he reaches up and briefly touches her wrist before lowering his hand.

Draco reaches out with Blaise’s wand in hand, a wry smile on his lips. Madam Pomfrey is already gone, closing her door quietly. Taking his wand from Draco, Blaise utters a soft thank you before he turns back to Laura.

“So a Muggle huh?” Draco’s voice is soft, non-condemning, and Blaise only places his wand on the small table next to her bed.

“Perhaps the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met.” Blaise responds finally, leaning back in the chair with only a small wince. There’s silence, and then Draco’s hand gently pats Blaise on his head before walking away. Blaise doesn’t turn to watch him go, only listening as his footsteps get farther away before hearing the hospital doors open and close. 

When he’s certain that no one is around, Blaise leans forward, eyes intent on Laura’s unconscious face. She already looks a lot better than she did the last time he saw her, and he reaches over, ignoring how it makes his body ache, and brushes the hair from her face.

/\/\/\/\/\

It’s when Draco comes back, some hours later, that Blaise asks about Potter. Asking if Potter could come so Blaise can talk to him. Draco looks at him, searching for something, and then disappears, promising to let him know as soon as possible.

An hour after that, Blaise is lost in thought and nearly curses Potter when the man startles him with a knock. It makes his wounds hurt fiercely, but Blaise takes a moment to make sure that it is Potter, that this isn’t a dream before he carefully sits back down.

And now that Potter is here, Blaise can’t find it in himself to relax. Potter doesn’t say anything, just approaches the bed cautiously, looking over Laura.

“Are you here to arrest me?” Blaise finally asks, staring at his hands.

“No. You were a spy, fighting for us on the inside. You kept the Secret Keeper alive.”

Blaise knows that Potter doesn’t mean anything by it, but he can’t help but think of the other Death Eaters who only called her that, who reused to even acknowledge that she was a person, “She doesn’t like to be called that.”

Potter doesn’t answer, and Blaise looks up at him, partly furious, partly exhausted, and he just wants to make sure that the other man understands, “That was the only thing they called her, because she wouldn’t tell them her name or anything, and, well…” Blaise pauses, looking at Laura for a split-second before returning his gaze to Potter, “It’s easier to listen to someone scream if you don’t think of them as human.”

They stare at each other, but Potter is the one to break eye contact first, looking back to Laura.

There’s a pause, then Potter sighs and says, “People aren’t perfect Zabini. To expect them to be is to set yourself up for disappointment.” 

And Blaise has nothing to say to that. He’s seen that too often, in the people he once called friends, to the people he called enemy, to the random people he has ever met. 

Finally he musters up his courage to ask, “What are your plans about Laura?”

Potter thinks for a bit before responding, “I hadn’t thought of anything. It’s really up to her. If she wants to go back to her life from before, then I’ll do my best to make sure that happens. If she wants to stay here, then I’ll make it work.”

Blaise is so, so grateful that Potter is so good. He sighs and allow himself to relax just slightly as he rubs at his face, suddenly utterly exhausted.

After a long silence, Potter reaches over and puts his hand on Blaise’s shoulder. Blaise tries not to tense up too much, but if Potter notices, he doesn’t do anything, “I don’t know how much it will mean, but thank you. For what you did. And don’t worry, she’ll be okay.”

Then Potter is leaving, and Blaise allows himself to reach up an entangle his fingers with Laura’s, squeezing tightly.

/\/\/\/\/\

(that night, parvati slips in. part of her is determined to find out the truth. part of her already knows the truth. she wants to know if zabini is the one who told voldemort about her sister.

she wants revenge. she wants her sister back.

she’s ready to fight, even kill zabini if necessary.

but then she sees him. sees how he has fallen asleep on the muggle’s- laura’s- bed. How even in sleep, he is protectively curled next to her, his wand just in reach. 

she still wants to know the truth. wants to know what happened, why he couldn’t have done anything for her sister. but then the muggle makes a soft sound, and zabini is shooting upright, intently focused on the muggle. but she makes no more sounds, no more movements, and after a few tense moments, zabini lays back down, his breathing evening out. 

and parvati…parvati stops. the war is over now. its only cleanup. it’s going to be one fight after another with the older witches and wizards, but the war is over. and maybe…just maybe, one day she can forgive him for anything he might have done. but for tonight, for this moment, parvati can close the door to the hospital wing and let the two of them sleep.)

/\/\/\/\/\

In the middle of the night, Laura starts seizing.

Blaise lurches upward, wand in hand, as a cacophony of sounds blare out in the silence. Laura is shaking, moving erratically, and Blaise doesn’t know what to do or how to help, but then Madam Pomfrey is there, somehow still dressed.

She shoves him out of the wand without any words, brow already furrowed in concentration as she starts casting spells on Laura. 

Blaise can only stand there and watch as finally, Madam Pomfrey’s casting starts to have an effect, Laura slowly calming down until she is once again just lying there.

For a moment, Blaise is scared to approach, but when Madam Pomfrey turns slightly towards him, Blaise is next to her in an instant, “What was that?”

“A seizure caused by overexposure to the Cruciatus. She should be fine now, but there’s a reason I have the warning spell set up. If it happens again, don’t panic, just come get me. You don’t want to accidentally hurt her by doing something you shouldn’t.” Madam Pomfrey instructs, still intently studying Laura. Then she pats Blaise on the shoulder once and goes back to her office, the door closing softly. 

Blaise sits back down next to Laura, feeling how his injuries hurt with his frantic movements, but ignores it in favour of taking Laura’s hand in his own again.

It takes a long time, but Blaise eventually falls asleep, the faint pulse he can feel in Laura’s wrist a comforting feeling.

/\/\/\/\/\

When Blaise wakes up next, the sunlight is streaming in through the windows, and Parvati Patil is sitting on the other side of the bed from him.

He tries to act nonchalant, but that fails pretty quickly, him reaching for his wand without thinking about it.

She looks at him shrewdly, but makes no other movements, her hands folded gracefully in her lap as she looks at the two of them. Blaise forces himself to relax, letting his fingers loosen from his wand as he sits back in his chair. He doesn’t let go of either his wand or Laura’s hand, but he tries to make himself less threatening.

“I want to know if you’re the one who told Voldemort about Padma,” she announces without warning, expertly ignoring his flinch, “And why you couldn’t have acted earlier and got her out.”

Blaise can’t look her in the eye any longer and turns his eyes to his wand. Parvati only waits silently, not making any other attempts at getting him to talk.

And eventually, Blaise does. He tells her that he was the one to tell Voldemort that she was the secret keeper, about their conversation in her mind, about his suspicions that Nott was the one to first spill who it was, about how he took flowers to her grave to apologize, how the conversation with her made him act, about her strength and resolve to not give in until she choose to. He dares to glance up at   
Parvati, and her face is blank, but there is no wand nor dagger in hand, so Blaise continues.

“Then, they brought in Laura. And all I could see was Padma’s face. And I couldn’t let that happen again.”

Parvati says nothing.

She says nothing even as she stands to leave thirty minutes later. She still has on battle weary clothes, dirty with dust, blood, and other suspicious stains. That same curved dagger rests at her hip, and Blaise wonders what the significance of it is. Parvati looks at Laura, still unconscious, then at Blaise.

Finally, she gives a heavy sigh and begins making her way out of the Hospital Wing. Blaise doesn’t watch her go, but hears her, just before the doors close.

“I’m glad you brought her flowers. She loved flowers.”

Then the doors close, and Blaise lets his eyes fall shut as he starts silently crying.

/\/\/\/\/\

A week after they make it out of Selwyn Manor, Laura wakes up.

It isn’t pleasant, it isn’t pretty, and it’s obvious that she’s having a panic attack, but Blaise grounds her, brings her to the present, and she looks at him as though she’s drowning and he’s a ship come to save her.

Madam Pomfrey does her examination, clinical even in the face of Laura’s obvious hesitation to the other woman, to the wand that Madam Pomfrey wields, and only relaxes once the woman is gone, back to her office.

It disappears for a bit when she asks him about what happened, about their injuries, and while he is hesitant to really let her know what happened, he knows she wouldn’t appreciate that.

And when he tells her she can call him Blaise, he only feels utter relief. The war is over, and they’re safe. Neither of them have to hide away again.

He wants to tell her about what to do, how the magical world works, show her that it isn’t just nasty dungeons and torture, but Potter beats him to it. Blaise isn’t even sure how Potter knew that Laura was awake, but can’t begrudge the other man wanting to see for himself that Laura was awake and okay.

Potter appearing out of nowhere Blaise could do without, whipping up and around, wand at the ready to cast whatever first came into mind. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Laura ready to throw the glass of water and has to smile internally.

Potter freezes, raising his hands as he apologizes, “Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Blaise has to restrain himself from actually following through with using a spell, but just collapses into the chair as he rubs at his face, “Merlin Potter, don’t do that.” The movement hurt more than he was expecting and he has to take several shallow breaths to shove down the pain.

“You kept the secret. The Wizarding world owes you a debt of gratitude that we can’t ever repay. We…well, that is, I, I wanted to apologize for what happened. I thought that I had kept you a secret, but Theo…Nott, he, he found out. I apologize for what you went through,” Potter sounds oddly formal, his speech obviously practiced, but he’s trying, and so Blaise only watches as Potter approaches the bed.

“We’ve never formally been introduced. My name is Harry Potter. Let me show you what you protected. That magic can also be used for good.”

Blaise wants to snap that he was already going to do that, but Potter looks so sincere, so wanting to help in some way, any way, that Blaise lets those feelings disappear as quickly as they came. It is nice though how Laura looks at him, wanting to know if she can actually trust this man. Blaise gives her a small smile and nod, and Laura hands him the now empty glass.

Then she reaches out, and carefully takes Potter’s hand in her own. She gives him a small smile, and then says, “It’s nice to meet you Harry Potter.”

Blaise can only lean back in his chair, a smile making its way on his face.

/\/\/\/\/\

(when blaise finally takes laura to varese, she wrinkles her nose slightly, smelling the air, then she tugs at his hand, pulling him forward just slightly,

‘does it always smell like apples?’)


End file.
